Make My Day
by moot3100
Summary: A full year has passed since that day, and yet the simple thought of it brought shivers up Francis's spine every time. He now sets out, watch secured upon his wrist, to find someone, something...that will make his day. France x Reader oneshot. Warning: This fic includes suicidal thoughts and a pistol. Read with caution. Please R&R!


**WARNING: What you are about to read includes a pistol and implications of suicide. I did not put this under M because it does not include overly sexual themes or bloodshed, though I think you should get a fair warning...Consider yourself warned.**

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_24 hours_

"I am home, everyone!"

My hoarse voice boomed throughout the whole mansion, subtly shaking the floorboards as I trudged through the large, mahogany doors. There was no response, no sound: Not the scuffle of shoes scuffing the ground, or the dull hum of a distant conversation, or any other sign of human life. I'd be foolish for guessing there would be. Just the sound of my own voice bounced back to me, like an old friend I'd always tried to ignore.

Sitting down my suitcase, I made my way upstairs to my bedroom, the darkest, dankest part of the entire house. In that room, nothing had been changed or moved since that day. Even the clock was stopped, as if it could preserve the same feeling it released the morning of my wedding. On the wall, it proudly displayed the time it was that morning: 8 o'clock sharp. _Definitely not six, she doesn't like waking up that early, _I mused in bitter-sweet remembrance.

All inside was still and uncannily calm, like someone had snapped a picture of the room and made it a reality. I made my way over to the vanity drawer. It was littered with all of the things that reminded me of her: a perfume that caught the scent of her hair perfectly, a children's book she'd read whenever she was depressed…a sunflower, which reminded so much of her radiant smile…

Finally, I looked into the vanity's mirror, seeing a man with these lifeless, blue eyes, ones that no longer had the desire to move on. My blonde locks, which had been combed and immaculate just a few weeks before, were now ruffled and disheveled. And my clothes, you ask? The designer cloth was wrinkled from all the tossing and turning I'd down the previous night.

_I'm a mess…a nightmare._

I fished around in my pockets for what I had been toting around all these months: a shotgun. Every time I touch it, I swear a small, deathly chill goes up my spine, one that I'd delight in never feeling again. Hands quivering, I set it on the table in front of me, tearing my hand away from it as if the cool exterior had burnt my skin somehow.

_Not yet, Francis, _my conscious chided coolly, as if this whole situation was all in a day's work. _Just give it another day; if nothing changes, then you can do it._

"_Oui_," I whispered to the mice and roaches hidden in the roof. "I'll do it. Just one more day, and all this pain will finally end."

Gingerly putting the weapon on my bed, I strode out the door to my car. I didn't know where I would go, or even where I was welcome. I just needed to get out there and try one last time to forget.

_21 hours_

I had cruised along one bumpy, dirt road for several hours until I saw a lit building on the horizon. Upon closer inspection, it seemed to be a petite café, assorted flowers strategically set up around the entrance. Having nothing better to do, I pulled up in the parking lot, taking a brief look around. The only other car there was a puny, cute Smart car. It had taken the space closest to the door. _It's too late for anyone else to be craving for coffee, I suppose._

A bell on the door jingled invitingly as I stepped into the heavily air-conditioned room. Immediately, I was hit by the smell of pastries and finger foods, much like the ones my _Maman_ had made for me as a child. Taking a seat at one of the many vacant tables, I glanced over the menu, which was posted on a chalkboard in a child's handwriting. It read:

Welcome to Flutter Cakes! Currently, we sell:

*Cakes…..$6.00

*Tea (Hot, cold, sweet, and unsweet!)…$1.50

*Coffee…..$2.00

*Soft drinks…..$2.00

*(New!) Flutter Freezies…$3.00

Open from 9:00 Am to 10:00 PM!

The childishness of the whole establishment should have annoyed me, given what I was going through, but it seemed to give off this warm, your-at-home-now atmosphere. I kind of liked it.

Just as I started wondering if the store was truly open, a young woman popped up from under the counter, a frazzled expression on her face. Her (h/c) hair was pulled back into a neat bun, a few stubborn strands falling into her face. She was wearing what I guessed to be the employee uniform: an off-white tank-top accompanied by cargo shorts. The whole kindergarten feel didn't match the girl's almost combative attire, and to be brutally honest, she couldn't completely pull it off, either. Despite all that, she looked up at me in surprise and flashed a smile embarrassedly, like the gesture would give her enough time to gather her wits after whatever had just happened.

I smiled back politely, clasping my hands together in a friendly manner. I was always taught that even a depressed man should be a gentle man, after all. She cleared her throat, wiping her sweaty palms on her pants nervously.

"H-Hello, sir! Welcome to…" she glanced at the menu, "t-to Flutter Cakes…! What would you like to order?" I glanced back at my choices once again, doubting that I had a craving for anything after all. After a few seconds of dead silence, I randomly picked an item.

"I guess I'll get a coffee."

"You want it a certain way?"

"Surprise me."

After giving me an affirmative salute, she disappeared back under the counter, the sound of dying steps left in her wake. I leaned forward a little in my seat to see carpeted stairs leading to a basement-like room full of kitchenware. By the sound of it, there were multiple people down there, all focused on their own tasks. I could even hear the heated voice of my waitress arguing with a cook, nagging him about his 'rashness and stupidity'. Quickly, she came back up the stairs, just as red in the face as she was the last time.

She walked awkwardly to my table, setting a mug of black coffee on my table with an exasperated sigh. I could tell from her shy demeanor that she wasn't usually this rude—she had something big on her plate, as well. _What a small world we live in, _I thought, _where two overwhelmed people can meet so easily!_

"Here is your coffee, s-sir," she said waveringly, as if she was trying to recite her words from an unwritten script. "E-Enjoy!"

Before she could walk away, I tapped her lightly on her shoulder, making her jump a little in fright. Gulping, she turned around to face me. "Y-Yes? I didn't mess up your order, did I?" She cast a terrified look at the stairs before looking back at me.

"No, miss, of course not! I merely wanted to ask you a few questions. Please, sit," I gestured to the seat across from me. She looked almost confused as she sat, crossing her legs tensely and eying me for weapons. I'd expect nothing less from a teenager asked to sit by a stranger at such a late hour.

She twiddled her thumbs in her lap, trying to ignore the awkward silence creeping upon us. "Um…sir?"

"Hm?"

"What'd you wanna ask me, exactly?"

Just that quickly, I had forgotten she was sitting there. I guess being lonely for such a long time _does _do some damage to your social skills. To be honest, I didn't even know what I wanted to ask her. It was more of an excuse to have human company as opposed to my thoughts. My eyes combed the room for something to ask her.

"Erm…your café. It reminds me a lot of my home in France," I blurted, not finding anything else remotely interesting in the place. "Do you run it yourself?"

To my surprise, she considered my question, animatedly stroking her chin in thought. "No, per say—this was originally my mom's business, but it got dumped on me after she passed," she admitted. My brow's knit together in sadness.

"Your _maman _passed? I am sorry to hear that."

She smiled sadly and held up a hand, cuing me to stop. "It's okay, it was a long time ago. To be honest, I probably coulda quit this job, but my family needs the income. Take care of the munchkins first, y'know?"

The girl seemed to have noticed how freely she was talking and apologized profusely for forcing all her problems on me. "Really, sir, I am _so _sorry!" Unless my eyes were deceiving me, she was on the verge of tears. I placed my hand atop her own as she made to get up.

"Non, non, miss," I looked at her nametag, "(Name). I really enjoy your company. Feel free to speak to me as you like."

After that, she relaxed greatly, and carried on a long conversation with me, the topics switching from world history to local donut shops. I hadn't felt that at ease in such a long time, the feeling was almost foreign to me.

_15 hours_

We had talked a lot about funny things in our lives, such as the ridiculous things we had done in our childhood, which was perfectly fine, until she asked the question, the one I had been making an effort to avoid for months.

"So tell me: are you married, Mr. Bonnefoy?"

There was a long, ominous silence before I answered. "No, not yet," I chuckled, rubbing the back of my neck sheepishly. (Name) looked astounded, slamming a fist against the wobbly table in response.

"No way! I woulda thought a guy as handsome as yourself wouldn't be taken already, especially with your talk of being so popular in high school," she said, blushing slightly when she brought up my looks.

"I mean, really? Are you single by choice are did you get shut down?" Through all of her excitement, she didn't see my get a bit glassy from those pesky memories. I heaved a heavy sigh and slowly ran a hand through my hair.

"It was the latter, actually. The woman had known me since we were kids. She'd known about my… womanizing tendencies, but she took the risk anyway and decided to go out with me. We had dated for…years. Admittedly, she wasn't the supermodel-type girl I had chased in the past, but she had brains and charisma, and I smile matched by no one I've ever met.

"I thought I had finally found the perfect woman, and proposed. She said yes, and we planned to get married in Paris, my home. It could've been straight from an unaired Disney movie, the way that _belle fleur_ played me. I was so sure I'd found my happily ever after…"

"But… what happened, then?" (Name) interjected, growing more and more engrossed in my story as I continued. "What went wrong?"

I chuckled bitterly and clasped my hands again, as if it would keep me from lashing out. "What happened, you ask? We were at the wedding, and all was going as it should: The minister was preaching, my bride was present, and the best man was by my side. We had exchanged vows, and all that was left was for her to say 'I do'. She, the love of my life, chose to state in the view of both of our _familles _not only that she was cheating on me with the best man, but she would never dream of marrying such a 'self-absorbed narcissist'."

By the end of the heartbreaking memory, I felt something wet running down my cheek. I wiped at the pesky liquid to see it was a tear. I was crying. _It feels so strange to emote again, _I thought sullenly. In fact, I don't even think I've ever told this story to anyone, let alone aloud.

(Name) seemed to notice my rapid blinking and reached across the table, trying her best to reassuringly pat my back at such a great distance. "C-C'mon, Francis, please don't cry….She didn't know what she was talking about! I mean, you haven't even said one thing to me all night about your appearance and-"

"You're wrong." I couldn't contain it any longer. Instead of being depressed about that fateful day, I was angry. Angry at her, angry at myself, just…

_Angry._

"Everything she said about me was true, even what she said at the wedding. I don't even deserve to talk to you today. Good night." Without another word, I strode out of the door. I had to get away from her, from it all. I didn't want to hurt someone. I'm sure (Name) was back there calling my name, telling me I had the whole thing misconstrued. But I knew what I had to do.

I knew it all too well.

_10 hours_

I didn't know where I was going any more. My original plan was to just go home and end it, but my hands steered me away from my house at the last second. _No, not now. It's not your time. _I huffed and drove on for several more miles, seemingly chasing the early morning sun.

I found myself stopping at a public park, with a shimmering, clear lake in its heart. Besides a few joggers and dog-walkers, the place was completely empty. Taking a seat in one of the smooth park benches, I stared intently into the pool of water. I'm not really sure what I was looking for, or wanted to see, but the image that stared back at me this time was not what I was expecting.

At first glance, it was just me, as it should have been, the crisp air of autumn nipping at my reddening nose. It was the person behind me that took my breath away. Or rather, who I thought I saw. "W-What are you doing here? I thought I had left you," I cried, still looking at the reflection.

The ripplely woman slowly walked up behind me, a carefree smile gracing her glossy lips. Her cream-colored arms enveloped my neck lovingly, though I felt nothing. Still, I kept my eyes trained on her reflection. I saw her lips move toward my ears, whispering: "I'm happy, Francis. I want you to be happy, too. Please let go, my friend."

_Please._

_Please!_

_2 hours_

"Please, Francis. Wake up! Please!"

I opened my eyes to see (Name) ferociously shaking my shoulders, salty tears springing to her eyes. _Seeing her…it was just a dream_. I reached out and grabbed her prying hands, trying in vain to loosen her vice-like grip on my shirt (For a scrawny-looking girl, I bet she had quite the uppercut). I had fallen asleep on a park bench. Real classy, Francis.

"Woah, (Name). I'm alright, _mon cherie. _I'm fine." I tried my best to smile, but I'm sure it came off more like I was in pain. Looking down, she was on top of me, and dangerously close to my face. And when I say close, I mean she was straddling my hips. Blushing wildly, we scooted a few feet away from each other on the bench.

"I-I'm sorry, it's just you left like that, and I found you lying here, and…I thought you were dead," she muttered, wiping frantically at her eyes. I rubbed small circles into her shoulder, trying my best to soothe her and not be a perverted stranger like I had so many other times in the time.

"You'd actually care if I died? Huh, that makes one of us," I muttered under my breath. (Name) looked up for a second, her (e/c) eyes connecting with my blue ones, mouth making to speak. But as if she was afraid her words would fall on deaf ears, she closed it again, laid back into the bench, and stared blankly forward.

I glanced down at my watch: one hour until I had to make a decision. As I stood to leave, (Name) grabbed my shoulder, her expression unreadable. "_Fille_, what are you-" I was cut off by her soft lips crashing into mine, her moves inexperienced but pleasing nonetheless. She pulled away as soon as she'd done it, still staring solemnly into my eyes. She whispered one thing into my ear before I walked to my car with a purpose, a whole new point of view.

_"Remember that someone loves you. Remember that."_

_0 hours_

I walked back into my mansion, the steady click of my heels being its only real sign of inhabitance. With each step, the memories seemed to flood in faster and faster, drilling at my ears harder and harder. The wounds I thought had healed reopened and throbbed, making it even harder to think clearly.

As I turned the jewel-encrusted doorknob, a new feeling washed over me: hope. The hope for something better, a new tomorrow. I stared at my reflection and smiled: I didn't think I was worthless anymore, because the thought of someone else loving me…it's worth living for.

I opened the vanity drawer and removed the shotgun, removing all of the ammunition and throwing it away. I didn't need it: I _wouldn't _need it. It was time I moved on.

As for (Name), I'd say we're on good terms. And when I say good terms, I mean we're married with two children, and another on the way (I think that's enough to pay for the $2 coffee I never paid for). I couldn't have picked a better bride.

To those of you having these suicidal thoughts, remember that someone loves you (Me and the author included) and you should keep on pushing for them. Who knows? You might just find the person to make your day.

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**Hey guys! Sorry if you clicked this thinking you'd get my usual funny story, but I foundout something that disturbs me.  
Almost all of my watchers are teens, and for every ten of them, one is wants to end their life. That...just makes me very sad.**

And I'm not talking about those random thoughts of "Hey, if I jumped out this window, I'd totally go KERSPLAT!"  
(I'm not the only one that thinks lke that, right?)

Really, though. This was really hard but necessary for me to write (This is actually the only fic I've pulled an all-nighter writing...O_0). If you're truly struggling with this, just know that somewhere out there, someone loves you and wants you to keep on going, me included. That might sound selfish of me, but love is pretty selfish too, eh?

I mean, it's not worth it. You die, and then what? We'll mourn, of course, but in the end, we all have to keep on going forward. We'll forget. Sad, but true.

Also know that it's VERY painful. Hollywood really commercializes death, with the pills rolling out f your hand perfectly as you fall to you death. What if you survive that? You'll either die long and painfully, or be paralyzed for the rest of your natural life. Not fun.

Not only that, but your only hurting the ones who care about you. Don't think of those who did you wrong- think of the kind souls you can meet in the future, the ones who want to get to know you for YOU, not appearance, or money, or anything worldly like you. Find what you love and live for it: whether it's another person, an animal, or even something like music or sport or WHATEVER it is you like! Go crazy with your lovin'!

Here, I'll post a few YouTubers I really like that explain it as well:

Shane: 1. [link]  
2. [link]  
3. [link]

Swoozie: [link]

(I don't know if anyone will even watch this one, but this is the song I was listening to when I had the idea for this story. It's really freaking sad, but I listen to it non-stop. Just putting ou a warning for horse-lovers, horsies die in this song... [link] )

Please comment, and know that you're loved and needed somewhere. Hopefully, I've saved someone's life.

{FOR CONTEST JUDGE thebigblackdevil5 on dA: I know, this is uber depressing, but I just wanted to get this noticed. Thanks for reading!}

P.S. Should I put up a warning because France is suicial and there's a pistol? ...I don't know...


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